


Bruises and Flowers

by Pixiestick_cc



Series: Bruises and Flowers Universe [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiestick_cc/pseuds/Pixiestick_cc
Summary: The purple and pink appeared on her skin like flowers. Slowly, they blossomed and bloomed into dark blue, before wilting away in shades of yellow and brown.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write another love confession, but have this one work out differently and come from a different place.

The purple and pink appeared on her skin like flowers. Slowly, they blossomed and bloomed into dark blue, before wilting away in shades of yellow and brown. Signs of trauma brought about by what Callum and Rayla were trying to accomplish. He tried not to stare at her bruises, but since entering Xadia they had consistently marked her skin and grown in number. And so he imagined them as flowers instead, softening the reality behind what they actually were … the product of violence.

Callum watched Rayla practice throwing. She was graceful and precise, performing what he often referred to as her deadly dance. The loud thunk of her twin blades hitting the tree bark, reminded him of approaching war. All around them. Thrumming. And the things they were doing to try and prevent it from happening. He started drawing her hands holding flowers as a distraction. Channeling his anxiety over her pain into art. Rayla kept throwing her blades, retrieving them, then repeating the cycle. They were waiting until nightfall before passing through a nearby village she had told him wouldn’t be all that welcoming. Most places weren’t in Xadia. Her bruises were a clear indication of that. And so he drew while she honed her skills and Zym rested nearby in the tall grass.

“Why the obsession with flowers all of the sudden?” she asked later, sitting across from him, examining his book. Zym stared at the pages with her. Rayla did this from time to time. Took his sketchbook without asking. He didn’t mind and her argument over why made sense.

_If you’re gonna be sketchin’ me from now on then I should get to have a look._

“I think it’s a sort of therapy,” he answered, as she scrutinized an image of her fingers holding poppies. “Flowers are delicate, sweet, and calming. It’s to contrast with what we’re doing.”

“Not all flowers are delicate,” Rayla countered. “Roses have thorns. And what do you mean by what we’re doin’?” Her back was against a tree and Callum was reminded of the repeated _thunk, thunk_ from earlier. The sound of sharp blades cutting into bark.

“You know, looming war. Fighting.” He paused, staring at the bruises coloring the back of her hands as she held his art. “Well, mostly you fighting. It’s dark stuff. So I like to remind myself that there’s still beauty in this world.”

One side of her mouth quirked upward. “Callum, are you sayin’ you think my hands are beautiful?” She was taunting him. They’d already been over this, but she still liked to bring up his fixation with her hands and how his sketchbook was filled with them. Callum thought that maybe this was her way of dealing with the violence that enveloped their lives. He drew beauty and she dug deep into her sarcastic wit.

“Uh, I think you already know how I feel about your hands, so stop trying to get me to feed your ego.” He narrowed his eyes and went to snatch his book back, but Rayla’s movements were faster and she sprinted away through the trees before he even had a chance to stand. He followed her laughter, on a quest to find his book. It was a game between them. One that Zym happily joined, keeping Callum at bay with a snarl once he finally caught up with them.

“You always take her side,” he grumbled and Zym replied with a yip. “Don’t you realize she has the upper hand anyway. She doesn’t need your help. Now me, _I_ need your help.” Zym seemed unconvinced.

“Maybe I have the _upper hand_ because I have _amazin’ hands_.” Rayla held out one for him to admire, stretching her fingers wide, but only blue and purple flashed in front of his eyes. These particular bruises were from a nasty clash where Rayla was forced to fight off her own kind to protect the dragon and human in her company. The memory made him grimace.

“Fine, fine. I guess my joke wasn’t that funny,” Rayla said, wrongly interpreting his expression. “You humans have no sense of humor.”

She stepped closer and handed the book back, but Callum laid it aside once it was in his possession, and took hold of her hand instead. Gently, he cradled it. Human hand under elven. Five fingers holding four.

“What … what is it?” she asked, all playfulness gone from her voice. Callum’s sudden seriousness had taken ahold of Rayla too.  

Slowly, he lifted the portion of her sleeve covering the remainder of a bruise and brushed his fingers over the discoloration. His mouth felt thick with saliva and he swallowed. “All joking aside, you do have beautiful hands, a-and I don’t mean that in a- I like them, because they’re different from mine, kind of way. I like them because they’re a part of who you are, and they show what you do, and what you have done for Zym and me.”

“Callum?” she spoke his name like a question, unsure, and if he were being honest, Callum wasn’t certain he knew what he was doing either or where he was going with this. How much did he want to reveal? Their moment was verging on becoming more and it felt like a long time coming, but also completely unexpected all at once.

His hand hesitated momentarily and he smiled, almost as if in apology for what he was about to do. “Rayla,” Callum said, his hand traveling up her arm where other bruises stained the skin, before settling on a slightly less noticeable bloom of yellow partially hidden by her raised collar. He brushed past it and then went to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing another bruise gracing her jawline. Purple like the moonshadow markings under her eyes. “Your bruises. I’m sorry, you have to bear the brunt of what we’re doing. I-I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I knew how to fight like you. It doesn’t seem fair that all I can do is move the air a little here and there, and I ...” Her breath hitched as if she were startled, and Callum felt the same. Similar to a fire being lit, and he became intensely aware of how close they were. “I-I want you to know that I couldn’t do any of this without you. None of it. And it’s just so hard watching you get hurt because I … I like you.” Like felt less intimidating than love.

Rayla pressed her lips together as she stared at Callum. A thick silence stretched between them as he waited for a response, and a terrible thought occurred to him that maybe he’d said too much. Maybe he’d made things awkward between them. But when her hand reached up to cover the one he was still pressing against her jaw, Callum felt blood rush to his ears. He imagined they were bright red.

“Callum … we …”

And then there was a sound, a disturbance rustling through the trees above. Rayla and Callum both gazed up to see a bird flying overhead. Nothing to worry about, and yet, it was enough to break the spell between them. Their fire was doused in cold water. “We … we have to pay attention,” Rayla said, and he suspected this wasn’t what had been caught in her throat moments before. The bird had offered her a diversion from Callum’s confession, and drawing her knives from her belt she moved away, trying to look everywhere but at him. “It’s too dangerous for us to be runnin’ around and playin’ games.”

Callum didn’t mention that it was her stealing his book and sprinting away from him that had begun their game. “You’re right,” he agreed, picking up his sketchbook and walking to where he’d been seated before. Rayla took longer to return, doing a sweep of the area before coming back to practice her knifing skills. _Thunk, thunk._ Over and over, until the sky shifted colors much like her bruises. Nightfall.

They made it through the village without incident and Callum sighed in relief, knowing that at least for now, Rayla wouldn’t have to fight. Although, her inner-struggles were another matter. She was quiet, even after they were safe from others and no longer needed to evade detection. Callum wrestled with whether he should say anything, but decided against it. He’d already revealed all he could. It was up to her to meet him halfway. And if not, then that was her choice. He’d try to live with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Injuries were a sign of weakness. That’s what Runaan had conditioned Rayla to believe for as long as she could remember. Bruises less so than broken bones or open wounds, but if you were hurt then that meant you had not come out of a fight unscathed. You may have accomplished your mission, but you’d done it sloppily. In essence, you failed. To Rayla, her bruises were a sign that she’d not sufficiently blocked a blow or evaded a strike and some days Runaan’s voice rumbled through her head when she stared at them- _They show your weakness._

And then there was Callum. For him to see her bruises as anything other than failure was so sweet and so typical of him. And so frustrating!

Why did he have to pull her mind back to that place she only dared visit once? He had been close to death- or at least it had seemed that way- and the distressing image of him clinging to life had done funny things to her. Made her think that maybe it wasn’t so crazy for them to be together and she could finally reveal her feelings for him.

But when Callum burst through his delirium, he brought with him the truth. Rayla’s panic had filled her with ideas of the impossible and with him once again safe among the living, those thoughts became a whisper. A secret she locked away. With the weight of the world on their shoulders, there was no time for silly notions like romance. Another weakness, according to Runaan. And even if their situation wasn’t precarious, they came from two very different places. An elf and human. An assassin and prince. On the spectrum of life, they were at completely opposite ends. War or no war, they just wouldn’t work. The two of them could never be anything other than friends.

But she was weak. In her bruises and in her heart, and Callum had opened that door again for her. Throwing it wide with his confession, and doing it in such a way that it felt impossible to ignore. He didn’t see her bruises as flaws, he saw them as strength. It had seemed wildly inappropriate considering what she’d been taught, for him to admire her bruises, touch them, and accept them. And what came next was even more troubling. A foolish hope rushing through her that _they_ were possible. That what had lit between them over these past few months might be love.

But Rayla backed away, from him and the hope he’d inspired. Shaken, she turned her attention to their mission. It was the only thing that still made sense. Moving through the forest, looking for indications that they might not be alone, Rayla heard Runaan’s voice inside her head again- _Weakness_.

“I am not weak,” she defiantly replied. “I’ve taken on a task that’s more important than any you ever trained me for. I’m fightin’ for a better future in ways you wouldn’t understand.”

The husk of Runaan’s essence didn’t answer and Rayla recognized with chagrin that the onus of her years of training was now manifesting as delusions inside her head, enough that she was having conversations with it. Apparently, she wasn’t weak, she was just insane.

Finally returning to Callum and Zym, Rayla kept to herself. Still focusing on protecting her companions instead of talking to them, she threw her blades. They were the only thing keeping Runaan from interfering. And Callum? His slumped shoulders as he lost himself in his sketchbook told her all she needed to know about how he was. Her rejection had injured him. He carried his bruises deep inside, and knowing she could now be lumped in with all those who’d hurt him- Claudia and Soren- Rayla deeply despised herself.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, after they were safely through the village, that Rayla found her voice again. Runaan had remained silent- his ghost no longer giving her an earful of reprimands- and she felt sane enough to broach the subject of Callum’s confession. They’d found a little alcove, not quite a cave, but an area hidden enough for them to build a fire. Callum’s face was highlighted by the flames, making him look menacing, which brought a smile to her face. Such a contrast with the boy she knew him to be. Like his pictures of flowers. They were to create a light where darkness persisted, and she wanted to create some light for him.

“Sooo, about what you said earlier out there in the forest today.” She tried to keep it light, casual, and not as dramatic as the butterflies in her stomach would have her believe.

He looked up, his brow furrowed in apprehension or maybe confusion. Likely, he hadn’t expected her to approach what had happened between them so soon. She was known to be extremely stubborn. As was he. That was one trait they shared at least.

Rayla closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to pull strength from him. She couldn’t fully explain it. Only that the sensation was similar to the fire burning in front of them. Embers had glowed throughout their journey and briefly burned bright when he revealed his feelings for her. Runaan would likely scoff at the idea of an elf being connected with a human, but she wouldn’t let him ruin this. Not again. The door inside her mind was staying open this time.

“Look, I’m not the best at acceptin’ my flaws, and all my life I’ve been taught that injuries are just as bad as losin’ a fight, a big ol’ black mark on who I’m supposed to be. Your little speech about my bruises- as nice as it was- threw me off a bit. And then there was the second part … that other thing you said …” She hesitated. _Did you mean it? Do you really want me to continue?_

Callum’s eyes were shining in the firelight, the crease between his eyebrows gone. He was actually looking expectantly back, ready to hear her thoughts, and when he asked, “Were you gonna say something else?” Rayla realized time had gotten away from her. It was similar to when she’d stymied him in the forest. Unable to answer, she’d remained quiet and then run away. But that wouldn’t happen again; it was time to face the secret burning in her heart.

“Well, I wanted to say that I, uh, feel the same ... that I like you too. Have for a while, actually. I’m sorry it took me so long to come to terms with it. Runaan’s just been blabbin’ up a storm in my head.” She chuckled uneasily. “That doesn’t mean I’m crazy. Well, maybe just a little, but he’s not talkin' anymore so …”

The heavy breathing of a sleeping Zym and the crackling of the fire filled the space between them as Rayla waited with bated breath for Callum to respond to a confession that admittedly could’ve gone better. _You can take down an enemy with one sweep of your blade, but admittin’ your feelin’s makes you choke like a wee little girl._ Well, at least it was her own inner-monologue criticizing her and not Runaan this time.

Thankfully, Callum didn’t stay silent for long. Moving in closer, he softly laughed, and Rayla wasn’t sure how to interpret this. “I hope you’re laughin’ because of my hilarious personality and not because you think what I said was dumb or crazy.”

“No, not dumb. But maybe just a little bit crazy,” Callum answered, a tease in his voice. “But that’s okay, I like it that you keep me on my toes.”

Rayla smirked. “Good, because I _am_ taller than you. You’re gonna be on your toes a lot if you plan on bein’ with me.” They were back to their usual banter, something that always seemed so easy to do with him. Even an intimate love confession could transition easily into a lighthearted conversation. That’s the way it was with Callum if you let him in.

“Hey, I’m fifteen. I’ve got time to grow,” he interjected. “Maybe _you’ll_ be the one who’s on their toes.”

“Doubt it. We elves tend to be on the taller side of human height, and then there are the horns. Sorry Callum, but you don’t stand a chance.” Rayla bit her lip. She’d mentioned the main difference between them ... and it wasn’t their height. “So do you really think you and me- a human and elf- can actually be together? Our people aren’t exactly on the friendliest of terms, you know.”

Callum was quiet, contemplating as he picked up a stick and poked at the fire. “Our love isn’t inside the scope of what exists right now,” he finally said, dropping the stick and taking her hand in his. She was reminded of when he’d held it back in the forest and her body hummed. “We’re outside of that. It’s a love for the end of the world. The rules don’t apply.”

Rayla wondered if she was blushing or if it was the heat of the fire. The butterflies in her stomach desperately wanted to escape. _A love for the end of the world? Is that really what we have?_ “That sounds about right,” she agreed, inching nearer. “And I like the way you put it. A bit morbid, I admit, but that’s what makes it interestin’. Just you and me, defyin' expectations of a world ready to destroy itself. Very dramatic.”

“Good, because that’s what I was going for.” Callum’s smile was impish, but it soon fell away, replaced with a serious look as he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her bruise. That was followed by another on her jaw and one more on her lips.

“I bet this means you’ll be drawin’ my hands even more now,” Rayla said when they separated.

Callum chuckled and reached for his sketchbook. “You’re about half-right.” He opened to the page he’d been working on and inside were two hands. One with bruises and the other without. Rayla’s and Callum’s. Elf and Human. Their fingers were laced and underneath he’d drawn a rose with thorns.


	3. Chapter 3

In the years following the war, Callum stayed in Katolis with Ezran. His brother had given him his blessing to be free of responsibilities, considering all he’d done to bring peace, but after losing both parents and so many other loved ones, Callum was unwilling to leave his brother behind. So, he became something of a counsel to the young king, giving advice on how to keep the fragile alliance between humans, elves, and dragons from fracturing. He also practiced what he could with the primal sources- a puzzle he still hadn’t fully unlocked- but more often than not, Callum spent his time drawing.

Always drawing.

It wasn’t a secret that most of his sketches and even paintings- yes, he could do that now- connected back to Rayla … someone else Callum had lost. Yet, unlike all those others who were taken from him too soon, Rayla still existed. Just not with him. After the war, their roles had solidified them in place.

Human and Elf.

“I have to stay in Xadia and help rebuild,” she’d said. That awful day had seared itself into his memory and Callum often drew images of it when his mood grew dark. Swollen eyes filled with tears and hungry mouths kissing, knowing that the next might be the last. A long goodbye.

“And I have to stay with Ez,” Callum had replied.

“It’s better this way.” Tears spilled down Rayla’s cheeks unchecked, but her voice remained unwavering. “We always knew that you and me, we would only work if the world was endin'.”

“A love for the end of the world,” Callum said, repeating the phrase that had nudged them beyond just being two companions on a quest and into the uncharted territory of first love. And as far as Callum was concerned, his only love. One solid year they spent fighting alongside each other. Months of stolen kisses. Of tending wounds. Of discovering what it was like to trust and love and fight and worry for another person more than yourself. And now it was over. No longer a love for the end of the world because the world had survived. And despite peace being found, the idea of an elf and human together was still looked upon as improper. They’d be hounded. Chased away and unable to love freely. Neither spoke it out loud, but they both knew.

“It’s difficult to see now, but what we have, no one will ever be able to touch it. We’ll always know just how brightly we burned, and that fire will stay in me. You’ll always be there, no matter what happens. A light to guide me forward in every decision I’ll be makin’ from this moment on. I wouldn’t be the who I am today without you.”

She’d sounded so poetic- which until that moment had been his signature trait in their relationship- and he appreciated her ability to hold it together long enough to comfort him. He’d been hopeless. Crying for most of those last few hours together, Callum was at a loss for words beyond, “I’ll never forget you.”

And he hadn’t.

Years later, she was still a presence in his mind and heart. Her letters may have stopped, but Callum continued to pour over the old ones, telling of her life in Xadia. Sometimes he even felt that spark, their fire permeating the air around him, suffocating a room. A phantom memory, pulling him back in time for a moment. Some days he hated it. Other times, it was a comforting added layer of clothing. He’d warm himself in her memory before the chill of solitude swooped in to replace it.

Until one day, when her presence didn’t leave. Callum was in his room, painting again, but put the brush down and closed his eyes, trying to remember. He was experiencing moments of forgetfulness lately. Rayla’s face. He’d drawn it so many times before, but pieces were beginning to slip away. Like how her forehead creased during sleep. Sometimes her hair would get mused and she’d have to smooth it down when her eyes opened and their journey began again. He enjoyed watching her sleep and waking her with a gentle shake, her smell clinging to his clothing for the rest of the day if they’d been laying in each other's arms. His original sketchbook was filled with images of her this way, but suddenly she wasn’t there in his head, and the idea that the memory of Rayla- even with his ability to recall things perfectly- was fraying, frightened him. Three years since they’d last seen one another. Two since he’d last corresponded with her. Was that all it took?

“No,” Callum mumbled. Raising his brush again, he moved it around the canvas, a sleeping Rayla no longer his muse. If he couldn’t recall the way she looked, then he’d focus on something associated with her. Roses. Delicate, yet fierce. Soothing, yet painful. A contrast. Just like Rayla. And as his hand worked, stroking reds, yellows, and greens against white, a familiar sensation took over. So accustomed to the feel of it, Callum didn’t even pause, and anyway, Rayla’s presence would be gone in a matter of seconds. Just like always. Yet, as he continued to work, she remained, the memory of their fire filling his veins, burning hotter than it had in a very long time. Even so, it wasn’t until a voice interrupted his concentration that he stopped to wonder why Rayla’s memory was flushing him with fire.

“Callum?”

He turned to see someone behind him, standing in the archway of his door. Her face was hidden by yellow roses. She lowered them and Callum blinked in disbelief. “R-rayla?” he choked out, dropping his brush. It fell to the floor with a clatter and rolled underneath the easel. Callum rubbed the back of his hands against his eyes. When he looked again, she was still standing there. Plain as day. “Rayla?” he said again.

“Yeah, that would be my name.” She smiled, and let out a nervous chuckle.

But this was a slightly different Moonshadow elf than the one from his somewhat hazy memories. Her silver hair was much longer, falling past her shoulders in two braids framing her face, with the back portion pulled up into a bun. The assassin's uniform she’d worn throughout most of their time together in Xadia was replaced with typical clothing one might find on the streets of Katolis. A dress? Callum had never seen her in anything so feminine. It also appeared that she’d grown some, just like they’d always playfully argued about. It seemed Rayla had been right all along.

Only her face- the one he’d been struggling to remember earlier- remained unchanged. Slight lips, wide eyes exposing brilliantly violet irises, high cheekbones with moonshadow markings, and a concave nose. All features he’d dreamt about for years, that were now right in front of him. It was hard to process, and Callum remained quiet, staring. _Is this real?_

“I-I brought you some roses. Well, you can already see that, because I’m holdin’ ‘em, heh, but uh, did you have a place where I could put these?”

Callum shook his head. “Are you really here? Is it ...” he swallowed, and his was voice thick with emotion when he asked, “Is it really you?”

“Well, I hope it’s me. And I hope it’s you, because if not then I don’t know why I grew these roses and brought them here. If you’re not really Callum, that is.” Rayla was joking, teasing like it used to be between them. But it sounded all wrong. Anxiety was mixed with the cadence of her words, and Callum could see the way her mind was working. He’d grown so used to anticipating her actions by hearing the truth behind what she said. This was her attempt to avoid the question she knew he’d ask. Or at least delay it. But Callum couldn’t help himself.

“You stopped writing. All my letters went unanswered.” He still remembered the constricting pain of his heart once he’d accepted that she no longer wanted to even be friends. “I-I didn’t even know if you were alive. I assumed you were. I felt that Runaan would at least have the decency to send word, but I was never sure. Why … why did you do that to me?” He hated that tears were pricking the corners of his eyes and swiped a finger against them.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just put these here then,” Rayla replied, placing the roses on his nearby bed. She lapsed into silence for a moment, running a hand up and down her arm. “Nice place you got here. I see you’re still drawing. You were always quite good at that.”

“Rayla,” he said her name reproachfully. “Why are you here?”

He’d thought about this moment so many times that it was almost as if it had already happened. She’d appear, he’d run into her arms and they’d kiss, cry, and promise never to separate again. But what Callum now realized was that this daydream took place in another lifetime. One with a suffering boy who needed to pretend Rayla would come back. Now that she was here, he felt distant. Hurt. He’d never actually thought this moment would happen, which was how he’d been able to twist it into such a happy experience, recalling it whenever his heart needed cheering up. But real life was messier and not so easily solved. Rayla couldn't just show up and not explain the past two years. Why had she gone silent?

She stalled, looking at his artwork, some hung haphazardly, others on the floor propped up against the wall. There were so many images of her, and Callum felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I came here,” Rayla finally said, pausing to pull in a breath, “to see you, and if you’ll let me, find a way for us to be friends again.”

“And you’ll explain what happened?” Callum asked.

Rayla nodded, biting her bottom lip, an act he’d seen her do countless times, usually when she was worried. “Yes, as difficult as it might be, I’ll tell you everythin’ and hopefully earn your trust again.”


	4. Chapter 4

Expectation mixed with uncertainty as Rayla gazed at the small box. Usually hidden, it now lay in her lap as she sat upon her bed. Inside, were things important to her, items she hadn’t been able to look at in a long time. A flutter filled her stomach at the prospect of peering inside. She swept away a few cobwebs covering the box’s stained oak that over the years had earned a few nicks from her nomadic ways. When you were an assassin you tended to go wherever your target was. She’d been on several missions but had never actually killed anyone before leaving that life behind. It was during one of those moves that the lock was lost. Now the brass latch was the only piece standing in the way of her and what she had left of her recent past. Three years since she’d last seen Callum. Two since Runaan made the argument that her attachment to a human was affecting her ability to focus. She was depressed and needed to move on.

And so she had. Going so far as to promise herself to another. In human language, it would’ve been called a marriage, but Moonshadow elves referred to it as the bonding of hearts. Trouble was, Rayla’s heart belonged to someone else and had since the day Callum brushed his fingers against her bruises. She glanced down at her forearm where there was an irregular shaped blue that if you looked at just right, resembled a flower. It’s what had prompted her to come in here and dig out her old box. An accident, while training with Runaan. Her mind elsewhere- as it so often was- she had taken a blow. But in the day that followed, the pink had shifted into a dark blue and all at once a forest had blossomed inside her mind. One where Callum held her hand and Zym ran circles around them.

Now Rayla tried to steady that same hand as she readied to open the box. It used to hold trinkets important to her, now it was _his_ box. Closing her eyes, she placed a finger under the latch and flipped upward. Naturally, there was no cataclysmic event, no soaring music, or loud explosion like she’d imagined. Just a box. And yet, so much more. She ran her fingertips across the wood, before finally opening her eyes and lifting the lid. Letters. All that he’d sent. Some she’d replied to and a few she hadn’t before they’d stopped coming altogether. Callum had the unique ability to send letters using birds, something only people of importance could accomplish. The ache she felt when their caws and chirps- depending on which bird he sent- no longer filled the air, alerting her of a new letter, still resided within her. It was Rayla’s own fault. She knew. And still, when the realization hit that this was truly the end, she’d wept. Runaan had been no help at all.

“Pull yourself together. This is no way for an assassin to behave.” He was still living in the past, much like her, and Rayla hated the hypocrisy of it all.

“I am not an assassin!” she’d shouted back, her voice thick with sorrow. “And you barely are either. Being a spy is not the same. We only inform. We don’t kill!”

Her outburst had taken him aback and after that, he no longer chastised her show of emotion. Mostly, because overtime she had learned to school her features into a mask of apathy that hid the storm of grief swirling underneath. And then with Runaan’s encouragement, she’d moved on, soon to be bonded. Only a few months from now. He was nice. They got along somewhat. But did she love him? If anyone had the ability to peer into her heart they’d know the truth. About who she really loved.

She scanned his letters. All containing sketches. Callum loved to draw flowers but also sent her images of Ezran and others he interacted with in his day to day life of living in Katolis. And sometimes he drew her from memory. Those were the hardest to see. His drawings of her were so particular to a certain time period of her life. Of them together.

Rayla stayed with the box for hours, sorrow keeping her in place until Runaan found her there. She'd missed their training session. “Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of looking at his letters?” He didn’t sound upset, more like a weary parent who’d been in this predicament many times before.

“It was an impulsive decision,” she admitted.

Runaan sighed, threads of concern lacing his exhale. He knew about the box and had encouraged her to lock away his memory. “Are you sure you should be doing this? With the bonding ceremony approaching?” He paused and moved to stand over Rayla, placing a comforting hand on her back. “It might awaken old feelings?” She didn't reply and Runaan spoke her name as a gentle plea, trying to draw an answer from her. But when she finally found her voice, it wasn’t to answer his question. She gave him one of her own.

“Why was it so difficult for you to accept that I loved a human. Do you realize how much pressure that put on me? To be this elf you wanted me to be. That I was never good enough because of my attachment to him? We were connected Runaan. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before or since.”

“Why cause yourself unnecessary pain? He occupied a small portion of your life. And you'll find that the human world will not be so kind to a former assassin elf, peace with them or not. I only want to keep you from ruining what you already have. Your life is here.”

Rayla had to take a moment to calm herself after a sob caught in her throat. “What good is havin’ a life if I don’t want it. I knew why I stayed behind after the war. I wanted to help, but I’m not needed so much anymore and I find myself miserable. This is not the life I want.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be who you want me to be,” Rayla stated and as the words left her mouth, she knew they were the truth. She was ready. After so many years, the pain of remembering had prompted her to accept a difficult life, but not as painful as the one she existed in now. The only question was- would Callum still even want to be a part of it?

* * *

 

“And Runaan just accepted your decision?”

A tiny smile played on Rayla’s lips. “Not at first. And oh boy, did he argue with me, but in the end, he accepted that I couldn’t be swayed.”

“And the elf you were uh ...” Callum couldn’t think of the right word, not wanting to speak the truth of who he was out loud, “… with,” he finally settled on, “he accepted it to?”

This question made Rayla’s smile falter. “I think he already knew, to be honest. My fixation on a certain human prince was well known. I was kinda an oddity. Think he thought he was doin’ me a favor.”

Callum cringed, glad Rayla hadn’t given this elf a name. It probably would’ve been rolling around in his head for the next few years, always igniting jealousy no matter how much Rayla insisted she never loved him. “Not that I’m biased or anything, but he sounds like a real jerk.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in Rayla’s throat. “You might be right about that. Just feel stupid it took me so long to realize.”

They were walking through the palace gardens, one of Callum’s favorite places, and a few drops of rain fell on his head. Glancing skyward, he let a few more wet his face and thought of how normal this all was. For them not to be fighting or hiding, just taking a casual stroll through the flowers. It was what should’ve been, and what could be now if they weren’t from such different places. But the world was changing. He was hopeful. Turning to Rayla, her hair becoming damp with a smattering of raindrops, Callum wondered if she felt the same.

“Do you think …” she began, touching the petals of a nearby daisy, before turning her attention back to Callum. “Is it possible for you to forgive me? That we could start over? Or that perhaps our differences won’t affect us. I know others will be percevin’ us as unnatural, but life was too difficult without you. It doesn’t matter to me how hard it is now. I just want to make up for the last three years.”

Callum absently ran his fingers through his wet hair and focused his gaze on Rayla’s eyes. Her irises were as brilliant as ever. He didn’t mention how much he’d missed them and her. How the pain ate him alive some days. None of that mattered anymore. Causing her more guilt wouldn’t heal their wounds. Only them figuring out what they had now would. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s get out of the rain.” He led her down the dirt path and through the door of a small room that housed gardening equipment. After locking them inside, Rayla’s scent, soft and floral, like a bouquet of lilies, pulled Callum in closer and when she whispered his name it sounded like melting honey.

“Yeah?” he replied.

A corner of her mouth pulled upward. “Were we gonna do some gardenin’ or somethin’, I mean why else would you pull me in here? Although, I am quite adept at growin’ flowers. Your gardeners would be lucky to have me.”

She was using the same teasing tone that had once been the distinguishing characteristic of their relationship, and Callum was surprised at how self-conscious he suddenly felt. Maybe he’d acted too rash. Taking this to a place he wasn’t ready for. “So, uh, you actually grew those roses you brought me?” he asked, stalling.

Rayla nodded. “All those pictures you drew inspired me. I’ve got a great big garden back home.” She hesitated, her eyes darting away. “Well, I did. But maybe I could grow one here. Maybe you could even help. We could have a little patch of land all our own. Grow every flower you’ve ever drawn. Just you and me.”

Rayla’s words hung heavy between them, filled with a slight sadness over the time they’d lost, and what could have been if events had played out differently. Callum forced a smile, not wanting her to soak in the shame she was clearly feeling. “Tell me more about this garden,” he prompted.

She exhaled loudly and bit her lip. “Well, it’s in front of a cottage, small, but big enough for an elf and human, using their combined efforts to create somethin’ new. A new type of garden full of different kind of flowers, some none have ever even seen before. Maybe others won’t like it, but that wouldn’t matter. It'll be perfect, just for us.”

Callum leaned in closer, shyness no longer holding him in its grasp. Her view of their future had tugged at his heart. “I like the sound of that,” he said with a timid smile, just before his lips met hers.

That kiss was followed by many more, with Callum pausing to find the bruise that had drawn Rayla to look in her box and come back to him. He kissed the tender skin, now a fading brown, just like he had on that day in the forest. Her flowers. Then moving his mouth back up to hers, he murmured, “I never stopped loving you,” into their kiss. Rayla repeated the sentiment back to him, her hot breath mixing with his. They were making up for lost time and Callum made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t waste a single day now that they were together again.

Inside their future little cottage with its flower garden, he would kiss and worship every bruise on her body for the rest of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was basically a condensed version of the longfic I wanted to write but didn't have the time to. Life is busy for me now and I don't have time to devote to fandom like I used to, but hopefully, once I have fewer responsibilities I'll come back and add more to this universe I've created.
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a kudo or comment. Thanks for reading.


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